


no return

by Laburnum



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 22:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13599948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laburnum/pseuds/Laburnum
Summary: Homura corners vampire Kyoko at her hideout in an abandoned arcade in Kazamino City.





	no return

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tentaclekitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentaclekitten/gifts).



One hour before nightfall. Behind the closed doors of the shut-down mall in the shopping district of Kazamino City, the air is stagnant and caked with the dust that flies up with every step, but Homura continues on toward her destination: the back room of the arcade at the far end.

She has been chasing this vampire for a long, long time, and she vows to end it all in this place today even if it means she has to fire the last shot herself. She unclicks the safety on her handgun and pushes the door open with her other hand, wincing as it creaks; the lights are off and Homura can’t see shit in the half-darkness, but something stirs in the back of the room and she levels her handgun at it.

“Just me,” a voice says. The vampire named Ophelia—real name Kyoko Sakura—lies by the far wall, her entire left side soaked in still-wet blood. Homura shot her full of so many splinters that even the vampire’s natural healing abilities can’t hope to save her. With effort she pulls herself into a sitting position, one hand pressed to the blood-soaked wound in her side. Homura thinks she’s glaring. “Where’s the pink fluffball?”

“Not here,” Homura grits. Madoka is sleeping Mami’s room on top of the tower in the center of Mitakihara, out of harm’s way, and won’t wake up till morning when it’s far too late.

“Just us, mm?”

Homura has no warning at all when Kyoko launches herself headfirst at her. She knocks the handgun from Homura’s grip and wrestles Homura to the floor, pinning Homura facedown to the floor with her whole weight. Even injured, the vampire is strong.

“You can die here then. And your poor girl is gonna be next.” Her fangs are sharp in the low light as Homura struggles to draw breath. “Oh, yeah, I know where Madoka is. You suck so bad at hiding things, you know that?”

“Leave her alone,” Homura gasps out. “I’m the one you want—“

Kyoko’s weight shifts above her. “Sorry not sorry, babe, it’s personal now,” she whispers in Homura’s ear.

Homura  wrenches her face aside, a slash of pain down the side of her cheek as the points of Kyoko’s teeth catch and rip open her skin. And then again, worse this time, as Kyoko sinks her fangs into the side of Homura’s neck. Blinding pain and then Homura’s entire body floods with paralyzing ice, vision going white as the blood is drained from her body.

Kyoko rolls to one side and gets up, teeth wet with Homura’s blood as she grins down at Homura struggling to get up. She brings her right hand to her mouth and yanks off the glove with her teeth; rips her own wrist apart and brings the gash to Homura’s mouth. The liquid is thick and sweet and fills Homura with renewed strength, her hearing and vision sharpens and she wrenches herself from beneath Kyoko’s weight, drives one knee hard into the vampire’s injured side. Kyoko yelps, and her weight leaves Homura as she doubles up in pain.

Homura scrambles to her feet; yanks her second handgun from her thigh holstet and levels it under Kyoko’s chin.  “Talk. Or you die. Why were you after me?”

Now that she can see in the darkness of the room she notices that Kyoko doesn’t live well; heaps of clothes and discarded food packets lie on the floor and the single table in the room, and there is a laptop plugged into an outlet in the wall. Pinned to a board against the wall, photos of girls from Mitakihara: Sayaka skipping stones on the rushing river, Hitomi at the piano in an empty practice room. In the far corner, one of Homura dashing down the road with Madoka along the sidewalk of a sunlit road.

“Does it matter?” Kyoko laughs. Blood trickles down from where she sank her fangs into her lower lip to keep from crying out in pain. “I’m done here anyway. Think you’re so smart now?”

Rage, white-hot and blinding. They say you never forget the one who turned you, and Homura has never wanted someone dead so much. “Until next time, Kyoko Sakura.”

The gunshot is loud in the silent room.

Outside the arcade, the sunset on Kazamino City is suddenly too bright. Homura’s broken flesh and skin are already knitting together, and it itches and Homura hates it and everything it represents. She cleans her face and pulls on one of Kyoko’s discarded jackets to hide the bloodstains, then makes the long trip back down to the bus station to deliver the news to Mami and Sayaka.

 


End file.
